The Return of the Dark
by Crowspirit138
Summary: Three thousand years have passed since the defeat of Sauron and the loss of the One Ring. The shadow has returned to Mordor once more, searching for the ring to regain his power and physical form. This is the story of a creature who, after spending thousands of years fighting Sauron's influence, is found. The fellowship is yet to be formed and it is time to step out of the shadows.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, there! I am **Crowspirit138** and this is my first ever story on fanfiction and my first attempted work. called _Return of the Dark._

This LOTR fan fiction I came up with after reading how Sauron became who he was in _the Silmarillion_.

I plan to incorporate scenes from both the books and movies. I hope you enjoy this first chapter and leave a review below if you wish to read more.

Thanks!

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Prologue

The continent of Middle-Earth is home to many different kinds of creatures, whether they be good, neutral or, in more cases recently, evil. The Valar of night, Morgoth,hoping to destroy the other Valar and rule all races created this first henchman the Orcs, Balrongs, Goblins and all other creatures considered evil or a foul-breed. Along with his creations he corrupted Maiar, lesser Valar, to do his bidding. He was defeated and the second age of this world began as Morgoth was captured by the other Valar at Valas Tulkas. The lone corrupted Maia known as Sauron, Morgoth's former lieutenant, took up the crown of darkness and cautiously made plans to continue the wishes his master.

The shapeshifter fooled the Valar into thinking he had repented and exiled himself to the far west, to the land of Mordor. Though not as powerful as his former master, Sauron was cunning. His status as Maiar of the forges and his shapeshifting ways gave him the resources for a plan to take over Arda without the different races even knowing his intentions.

In a fair guise he ingratiated himself to six elf forgers, each a talented warrior and masters of their craft. His words and influence led them to create the 19 rings intended to bend the will of the three races under his command. Then, he created the One Ring to Rule them all in the fires of Mordor, far from prying eyes, using near all of his power to seek control of the other rings. Sauron captured and killed five of the elves that aided him after they learned the true purpose of the rings. A lone elleth survivor managed to escape with the three more powerful rings and warn the elf kings of Sauron's deception, and in return only wished for forgiveness. However, the high elves banished the forger from their realms forever and in turn fell into the clutches of the Dark Lord.

The rings of power pulled the nine rulers of men, creating the Nazgûl, but failed against the other races. In order to gain another powerful warrior, he corrupted the lone elleth smith. The power of Sauron that was used in the forging of the rings and the hate of being betrayed by her own kin warped the appearance and mind of the smith and gave powers not dissimilar Dark Lord's own. This change gave Sauron power over the creature, now neither elf or foul-breed, and made her a weapon in his wars. The elleth became a monster. Her mind was chained and free-will gone, and was the second Dark Lord's assassin, general, and lieutenant for over two millennia. The elleth's existence for elves was similar to that of the Nazgûl for men, and feared for the same reasons.

She led battle after battle under Sauron, her true elf name became forgotten and abandoned, leaving the races to name her. Dark squire of Mordor, the kin-slayer, dark hunter, where all names given to the creature by the residents of Arda but was known more commonly as, Fiuniell by the elves, the corrupted one. She became a nightmare to those who lived to see her and tales of her twin blades and eyes that glowed similar to the liquid flames of Mount Doom were used to scare children and adults alike. The Dark Lord rarely revealed himself and left the confines of his stronghold of Barad-dûr. The corrupted one led more assaults on Sauron's command than he did himself during his full-scale invasion of Arda. Therefore, when the name of the Dark Lord was whispered with fear and terror, Fiuniell was mentioned the same.

In an attempt to stop the invasion and emanate loss of their homes an alliance was formed by the three main races of Arda, man, elf-kind and dwarves. The main assault was started via the plains of Dagorlad and met Sauron's forces head on after a seven year siege of Barad-dûr. After many hours of battle, the prince of Gondor, Isildur, sliced the One Ring from the finger of Sauron, ending the battle but not without heavy losses. It is unknown whether the corrupted one died with her master or fled once the ring's power was diminished. She was never seen again either way. The ring is taken by Isildur but lost to time and story like most history. Tales of moving shadows, whispers of rising darkness and power continue, and so, the story persists.

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Chapter 1

There is a forest to the deep South of Arda that is called Shadowhold. The forest is not separated by any body of water or any other distinguishable feature. It simply exists. It is covered in darkness but not evil, unlike Mirkwood and untouched by any elf, man, or beast. Many have tried to traverse and explore the woods, only to end up where they began. No birds called sweet songs in the twisting, expansive branches of the trees, and no grass or leaves rustled with the promise of passing animals. The lack of noise would scare a more weak-hearted soul but the sound of lone footsteps proved this man not to be of that kind.

Gandalf the Grey, one of the five great wizards, had come to this place to find someone. His grey cloak and hat sways as he walked undeterred through the darkness. The staff in his wrinkled hand, lit at the top, casted wicked illusions on the surrounding trees. The night was lit by a full-moon but he could feel the darkness getting thicker, fighting his magic. The dark did not seem malicious but he kept his grey eyes scanning before him, prepared and ready in case he sensed vicious intent or an attack. The ground sloped steadily downwards and the trees grew higher and thicker blocking out more and more light, a few minutes later near all light was blocked by thick leaves and branches. The staff continued to dim as he moved deeper into the heart of the forest.

He came upon a cave slopping out of the ground and the entrance was obscured with thick waves of ivy and vegetation. The wizard stared at the cave which was only two stone tosses away and continued darkness grew stifling and heavier as he approached. The darkness seemed to spill from the cave, coating the forest in a moonless night. The creature he was meeting had been in Arda longer than he had walked it and had chosen this place to be away from both the East and West. The darkness is it's doing and he hoped not to get on the creatures bad side. After all, Gandalf had something to wish of it. At about five meters, the wizard stopped dead in his tracks and called into the darkness.

"Fiuniell, come forth from the shadows, I wish to speak with you."

With a rustle of ivy leaves, a humanoid figure slipped calmly from the pitch-black of the cave, a sable cloak hiding it's frame and face from Gandalf. Eyes of burning molten gold was the only feature visible, and the orbs emanated malice before going to glowing slits as it took in his figure. The creature seemed to recognize him and the pressure of the darkness was lifted from the wizard. The shadows seemed to move and gather around the figure, increasing presence but not stifling the wizard's light spell.

"The shades of Arda have spoken of you, and your kind, countless times in the past two millennia, Grey One." A female voice began in the common tongue with a strange lilt not recognizable from any region in Arda. Gandalf did not react physically to the use of his title but, the creature could sense his surprise and caution. "You more than likely expected a monster, and you are not wrong," she continued gazing coldly at the Istari, " free will was an _unexpected_ consequence of his defeat." She concluded with lowered head slight chuckle. She looked back up at the wizard, crisp grey meeting gold and the shadows began to expand behind the sable cloak making the forest behind her near pitch-black

"I followed the tales of both men and animals to find you. Your eyes are the only ones of its kind, as you are." He concluded, relaxing the grip on his long staff sightly to show no ill-will. "It surprised me when I learned that you do not kill trespassers, only turn them around." He shrugged at his words, but tensed his body at Fiuniell's glowing eyes and rising aura. "It led to some interesting folk stories by _all_ creatures."

"Is that the only reason you are here, to confirm rumors….. Or something more?" She whispered glowing eyes sparking and voice, cold as the deepest shadow, "Did you come to kill me or drag me back to the west? If either, I will not let you." The shadows seemed to writhe behind her with the iced statement and Gandalf tightened the hold on his staff, knowing it was no false illusion. "You know full well, why I stay in isolation. It took me _millennia _to control this _curse_ of my own free will! I may not have killed in the past millennia but those skills have not faded." At that Fiuniell crouched in preparation and Gandalf could see that she was reaching further into the cloak for the twin short-swords at her waist.

"Peace Fiuniell," Gandalf growled, then sighed and shook his head, "I am not here to kill you, though two-thousand years ago that might have been different. No, I am here to offer a chance at redemption." The figure tilted her head in confusion before cautiously straightening back to a full five foot seven height, and the shadows stilled.

"You are the first to come here with no intention of ending me or for blatant curiosity," She whispered, utter confusion clear in her voice and eyes, "and with an interest in my repentance no less. You must have a _very_ important reason as to why you are here." She stood still, burning gold calm and curious with a hint of suspicion as she waited for Gandalf to continue.

"Surely you can feel his coming," he stated factually, stroking his long grey beard, while easing his shoulders "and I am certain that you know that One Ring is found, and that he is searching for it." Looking meaningfully toward the former she-elf.

"Yes, I do," she shuddered, "I can hear him, creeping once more to claim Middle-Earth. Even after all these years, I can feel his searching gaze and his ring."

"That is why I am in need of you." Gandalf began once more, voice grim. "You have spent the past three-thousand years winning against his influence on you. You can counter him with his own speech and have managed to use his strength as your own." Nodding to the dense shadows behind her cloak. "I plan to bring a group together to fight Sauron once more, and I would welcome you into it."

The non-elleth took a step back in shock at his proposal. It was suicide to let her anywhere near the One Ring without precautions! She was fairly certain she could fight the sway of the ring on her own but even without the Ring the trip to Mount Doom would kill any unprepared traveler. There was also the possibility that this followers will inform the Dark Lord of her survival, and he would try to break her mental barriers to control her again. A group of skilled warriors from all walks of life to cover both and all weaknesses and strengths. That will be essential if the plan is going to succeed.

Her eyes flashed once more however not with rage, but fear. "Do the others of your order know that you are offering this to _me_ of all the creatures in Middle-Earth? I suspect the Elves and the race of Man will be _far_ less than willing to work with me than you suspect." The creature growled shuffled her cloak, seeming to back more into the shadows surrounding the pair.

"Only stories remain of your accomplishments and _far _fewer can put a face to your name. Only those few know of my meeting with you. For all intents and purposes you are a dark memory." Gandalf assured.

"Good…." Fiuniell sighed, relief emanating in her cloaked posture. "It would be unfortunate to be killed before the journey even begins. What of the chosen bearer? They will be especially susceptible to the Ring's influence as well as the other companions."

Gandalf smiled slightly at her question and nodded, grey eyes sparkling. "I assure you that the bearer is strong of will, as well as the others. I have a plan to introduce you to them in a peaceful environment." Gandalf paused a second, realization flitting across his face, "Thought one you can meet earlier if you are willing." Fiuniell slowly nodded her cowled head in acceptance before moving to look through the tops of the trees, near invisible in the shadowed night she had helped create.

The fear of Sauron getting to her again in a moment of weakness or extreme anger frightened Fiuniell. However, pure hate at his control of her for nearly two-thousand years in addition willful seclusion to train and repent had hardened her resolve. He had ruined her, but his true defeat would give her the one thing she sought above all else. Hope, and this gave her hope for the first time in many millennia. Either way the Dark Lord would find her, but now it could be on her terms. Her gold eyes stopped glowing as she released her powers over the forest, closing her now normal eyes in the process.

Gandalf could sense the change in Fiuniell and see it as well, the surrounding darkness slowly disappeared, as the sun rose in the west and banished her fading shadows. Suddenly two arms reached out of the cover to push down the cowl and move the coarse weave of the sable colored cloak past her soldiers, in the face of the dawn light. His eyes widened slightly at her actions. She was known to keep her face hidden because of her features that gave away her connection to the Dark Lord. Her eyes blinked open cautiously to the sunlight then turned to face the old wizard. Her slitted eyes were vacant of expression, even with a slight smile on her face.

Her face was the color of burnished bronze along with her arms and long obsidian waves reached to the small of her back. Her ears were pointed and, despite being longer than a normal elf's, her fair features made it clear that she was once one. The only exception was her eyes. When closed, she looked almost beautiful, heart-shaped face with high, fine eyebrows, long lashes, straight nose and thin lips. However, the color of burning gold and flames, the colors of Mount Doom, cast her face in a wicked light. Her features turned sharp and cruel looking under those eyes. The cat-eyed pupils bore into all living creatures and seemed to look into the soul.

For the five-thousand years she had existed she looked no older than a woman not yet thirty. Her short-sleeved shirt was the same color as her cloak, a black with brown weave, along with her wrist braces. Her pants where a plain black material but the boots, belt and the sheaths of her blades called Gandalf's attention. They were made of black dragon-hide and leather. The black scales were barely distinguishable, but noticeable to the keen eyed Gandalf. She cut a very imposing figure in the forest shade.

"Now you see why I keep myself hidden," She stated sorrowfully, "I will never fade as long as he exists and the Undying Lands beyond the west sea will accept me no more." Fiuniell's molten eyes closed softly, "His mark will permanently remain on me but I will gladly pass on if it means the Dark Lord will perish and not return. I will join you in this quest, not just for my own revenge, but for all of Middle-Earth." She concluded with a slight bow, sable cape flowing back before her. The wizard returned the gesture, sweeping off his grey, pointed hat in the process. As she straightened, and crossed her arms over her chest .

"Where will I find your chosen bearer and this one you want me to meet?" she questioned, watching the wizard come out of his bow and plop the hat back on his head. He gave her a smile, a genuine one, not full of caution or false happiness. His eyes crinkled with merriment as he faced the creature, not of elf or of the foul-breed, and answered.

"The last week in September is when you and I will meet once more, at an inn called called the Prancing Pony in Bree. I will send word to the man you will meet, Aragorn , or by another name Strider, so he expect you if I arrive late. Trust me when I say you will recognize who Aragon is and I will see you there." He winked humorously, with that he turned and began to walk away from Fiuniell. However, before he got too far, he turned back around and called to her with one last question. " Before I leave to care for other business, do you happen know of a creature called a Hobbit?"

Thus the story begins.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again! This is_ Crowspirit138_ and I want to hank you for checking out my first ever story and it's second chapter!

I thought I could make the journey to Rivendell this month but I just wasn't able to do it along with other responsibilities.

The first encounter with Aragorn was hard to write with the journey to Bree.

I plan to update each month so thank you for your interest. I will try my best at Sindarin and have it translated at the bottom.

Enjoy the Chapter and leave a review below!

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Chapter 2

It had been two months since Gandalf had left Fiuniell's cave in Shadowhold. Fiuniell had just finished packing her meager belongings for the long trip. There where two objects on the table before her. Gandalf had given them to her to study before leaving the forest, and both were essential in their own right. She leaned across her pack on the oak table and picked up a green book and opened it to the middle.

The book was in the common tongue and it detailed the adventures of a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins, set nearly sixty years past. Though book gave her a general understanding of present Middle-Earth and relationships between the three main races. It surprised her Oropher's son, Thranduil, still lived. She had thought him dead in the War of the Last Alliance and that Elrond was still in Middle-Earth, and had not gone to the Undying Lands. However, it was one important object that drew Fiuniell's attention before all others. The ring Bilbo found was clearly the One, the description, powers, and the madness of the former owner said it bearer must be a descendant of this hobbit or Bilbo Baggins himself, she thought as she closed the book softly and put it in her pack. It was a very good book, and if she had the chance to meet the writer she would like greatly to verify his story.

Hobbits seem to be interesting creatures to say the least; and a relatively new species when compared to man, dwarf and elvenkind. It was no surprise that she had never heard of them before. The wizard must have come to care deeply for hobbit during this adventure and by extension learn about the ring.

Her bronzed hands reached for a rolled up scroll, and unfurled it fully before her. It was a map of Middle-Earth and the second object Gandalf had given her. It detailed the path she would take to reach Bree. It was a good two month journey by foot, so Fiuniell had to move fast in order to get there by the last week of September. She did one last quick check of her belongings before striding out of the cave and into the forest, the map held firmly in her left hand.

On her way to Bree, Fiuniell realized two important truths as she came upon village after village. First, elves do not travel far from their strongholds and second, is that mankind is forgetful. Though traveling with a fake name, she had no need to hide herself in the small villages, because most had never seen an elf, and those that had, were easy to deflect in saying she was from the far south. The common folk lived simple lives, only concerning themselves with their craft, families, exaggerated stories and gossip.

She avoided main thoroughfares as much as she could and traveled mostly by night through the vast forests and grasslands. Traders, wanders and many other folk roamed the common streets and she did not want to risk a confrontation or discussion of her origins. Luckily she saw no fair folk; they live too long and keep extensive records of their history. In other words, Fiuniell would be recognized for who she was and, more than likely, have an attempt made on her life. The fake name also gave her no real comfort. The name, Orratni, was known for its translation in the Black Tongue. It means, Dark One, but it is much less well known than Fiuniell, Black Kin in Sindarin.

The path she took came with some risks in the form of wandering bands of foul-kin. Her hood and cloak made orcs and other creatures think she was a weak, lone human female. They were very wrong in both aspects. She could see more clearly in the darkness with her powers at its peak and nothing could get within a few feet without her knowing. Though her skills may have faded slightly, she was still a master at dual-wield blades.

A band of five orcs tried to ambush her as she traveled across a forested hillside three weeks travel from Bree. They were loud in the quiet night and were very overconfident in their abilities to kill. Too bad that she was better in that art. She jumped to a nearby tree as they began to circle her and slipped behind them in their confusion. She picked them off one by one, using the darkness and her powers to camouflage herself. They didn't even feel their heads slip from their shoulders. The night left her with no fatigue at using her powers, and she swiftly in case the noise alerted others.

She kept her hood and cloak concealing her frame and face. Luckily, people on the road tend to keep to themselves. She learned many things about Bree from the small villages Fuiniell came across. It is a town of lost souls, trading and run by humans, built on the roads of the Greenway. This makes it a well traveled place and known for goods and services sold there, and is well known for its local pubs and inns. The Prancing Pony is one of the more famous stays, run by a Mr. Barliman Butterbur. It is reputable, and well known, a good place to meet.

* * *

She arrived just as the last week of September begin. She quickly contemplated the map in her hands, remarkably impressed by its accuracy. The light had started to fall in the horizon, casting the western gate in a burning hue. Her cloak, pulled securely around her frame, looked more a dark auburn than black in the fading rays as she moved to put the map in her pack. She made towards the gate with a quick pace and halted a step before it. She heard muttering on the other side and lifted a fisted hand to pound on the thick oak door when, a slit suddenly opened before her, causing her to recoil in shock. Suspicion filled eyes glare back at her through the slit as she steps back from the gate, pulling her cloak tight around her. "Who goes there and what is your purpose here?" came a gruff voice and Fiuniell quickly moved to tug the hood of her cloak in greeting.

"Good evening sir, I am Orratni from the South," She answered, giving him her false name. "I have business at The Prancing Pony and I hope not to be delayed further." She stated, taking a small step closer to the gate to show her intention.

The man gave her a once over, though he could not see much beyond the long cloak, and shut the slat in her face. 'I might have to scale the walls later tonight…' Fiuniell thought at the watchman's actions, however she soon heard the click of the lock and the shift of the large oak bar blocking the door from the inside. The watchman slowly shifted open the gate, letting her pass. She strode through the gate quickly, hoping to avoid conversation but was blocked by the old watchman as she passed him.

"It is uncommon to have a lone female traveler at anytime of year or day," he began softly looking down at Fiuniell, "best to be at The Pony by nightfall, ya hear?" She felt her eyes flicker and slit indignantly at his worry but she only shook her head. She pulled her cloak back to reveal the twin blades at her side, silver pommels shining in the golden light. The watchman gave her a startled look and slight step back.

"Your concern is unnecessary, but appreciated," Fiuniell curtly stated as she moved her cloak back into position and stepping forward into the town. "The Pony is just down the lane, correct?" She asked, turning her head towards the man over her shoulder.

"That is right, however I must ask if you mean any ill will upon anyone here." The watchman moved warily to the door, solid oak bar in hand to reseal the gate.

"Worry not," Fiuniell chuckled as she shifted her gaze into the town. "I am here only on have my word that no blood will stain my hands, and by extension yours, while I am here." She smiled through her words as she tread forward, leaving the watchman to relax and seal the door with a thump.

The sign of The Prancing Pony swayed creakly in the autumn wind as Fiuniell approached the awning of the Inn. She reached for the handle only to recoil slightly before touching it. A thousand questions barraged her head about the man she was soon to meet, Aragorn. 'How does he know Gandalf? In what way will I recognize him? Will he recognise me? Will he try to kill me?' Fiuniell shook her head harshly to try and clear the worries but they remained.

She exhaled loudly and lifted her left hand once more, steeling her nerves. The metal handle was cool to her as she slowly pushed it open. She didn't move to remove her cloak hood as she made to the counter in the center of the inn, easily slipping in and out of the crowd with a practiced ease. Not realizing she had become the subject of another's gaze.

"Good evening sir!" A portly, jolly man with a silver mostauch greeted her as she approached. "I am Barliman Butterbur and I welcome you to my fine establishment, what can I do for ya?" He smiled awaiting for her reply. She was very amused at his mistake however, it was no surprise. Female travelers are rare and her cloak hid her frame and face well.

"And to you too sir, though I am no man." Fiuniell corrected with good humor , "I am here to meet someone, has Gandalf the Grey come recently?" The Innkeep eyes widened at her voice, and looked embarrassed after recovering quickly from the momentary shock.

"Ah, sorry ma'am! You're lookin' for Gandalf eh? Sorry to say I haven't seen him for the past three months." Butterbur sighed, rubbing his neck. Fiuniell sighed and squeezed the bridge of her nose in frustration. What could she do now? The Innkeep suddenly cried out, causing Fiuniell to snap her attention back to the Innkeep. He quickly made for a certain cubby on the upper right the shelf behind him. "He did leave some letters however!" He said estaticaly as he rummaged around, and picked out two worn letters. "One is for a Mr. Baggins and the other…..I can't make heads or tails of." He trailed off, staring quizzically at the back of the second letter as he made to put them on the counter.

Fiuniell recognized the writing and was mildly impressed with the old wizard. It was her name in the language she was most accustomed too, Black Speech; the same as the writing on the One Ring.

"That one is mine," she stated, reaching to take the letter from Butterbur. "As for the other, I can take it off your hands, if you wish. I am set to meet him here, along with one other. I can give it to him." The Innkeep nodded, and she reached out to pocket the other letter. The name Baggins was the same as the book Gandalf had given her, so he must be the ring-bearer.

"Wish I could be of more help to ya, but the others are gettin' a bit rowdy." He said to her as a particularly drunk man came to the right counter, demanding more to drink.

"Thank you, kind sir," she smiled at the Innkeep, turning away with a swish of her cloak, "I will be back for a room later." She smoothly moved out of the way of the drunkard to sit at a table close to the Inn's entrance. Fiuniell relieved her pack from her shoulders and retrieved a small knife from her right boot. She cut open Gandalf's letter with a quick flick and unfolded it. The flowing script read the following message:

_Dear Fiuniell,_

_I hope this letter finds you well in Bree. Bad news has reached me and I must set off at once. There is enough for a week's night enclosed but I ask that you stay at The Prancing Pony until the arrival of a hobbit named Frodo Baggins, under the name Underhill. He is in grave danger and hunted by ones you know well. As for the man I mentioned before I left you, he is lean, dark, tall and a familiar face to you. He called Strider by some but use his real name in confirmation it is him. You both are charged with keeping Frodo and what he carries safe. Make haste for Rivendell and I will try to meet you all there. If I cannot make it, Elrond will advise you._

_Yours in haste_

_Gandalf._

Fiuniell read the letter in complete silence, before tossing the envelope of coin into her bag and gripping the letter tightly in her left hand. She was worried that the wizard was not at The Pony, but hopefully he would be at Rivendell.

She needed to find this man, and quickly. Who knows when the hobbit might arrive! There was little time and few options and it was a severely bad idea to go around asking by name for security's sake. She resolved to do the one thing a person who knew her stories would recognise. She slammed her hand hard on the table, near shattering the wood under the sheer force, and stood to servay her surroundings. She could feel her eyes begin to burn and glow slightly as she scoured the merry men surrounding her, looking for recognition and someone she remembered.

Fiuniell suddenly became aware of a pair of eye barring into her back. She turned around quickly and saw a man sitting far from her, near the fireplace. His cloak was like hers, drawn over his frame. Gleaming eyes caught her burning gaze, and the man stiffened. This allowed Fiuniell a brief glimpse at his face in the firelight. That was all it took. Her eyes flashed burning gold in shock before fading back into the shadows of her cloak. 'Isildur.'

* * *

Aragorn had watched Fiuniell since she had entered The Prancing Pony. He recalled what Gandalf had told him of the other he was to meet, one going by the name Underhill, and another which Gandalf fervently refused to reveal the name of. He was only told to look for a sable cloaked female and to not judge on first request concerned Aragorn in a multitude of different ways, but he chose not to question the wizard furter out of trust and respect. However, now that said person seemed to be before him, he was concerned even more. Her movements where those of a proper killer, weaving in and out of the crowd with no resistance.

She sat and began to read the letter from the front desk and from what he could see, she was well armed. Two medium length blades at the sides, and small knife in each black boot. He considered approaching her but reconsidered the action, if Gandalf had not given her word of him, it would likely lead to a violent confrontation. He did not have to wait long as the letter seemed to be ill tidings. She harshly slammed her clamped hand on the table and stood. She must have felt his eyes on her, as she immediately turned to face the dark haired man.

Burning gold bore into his eyes from across the Inn. He stiffened as a memory flashed across his mind. Elrond had once told him of eyes similar to those. An ancient enemy, as old as the elf himself, and one far older. Those eyes belonged to Sauron the Deceiver and Fiuniell the Dark Kin. The deaths of thousands and the burning flames of Mordor shone in those eyes, recognisable to all elves and those with knowledge of the distant past. The flash in those eyes however held none of that, only shock, anger and surprisingly, recognition and slight fear.

The glow dissipated as soon as it landed on Aragorn, fading back into the shadows of her hood. She slowly reached back to grab her pack from the rickety table and made her way to him. Aragorn carefully moved for blade next to him, unsure of Fuiniell's intentions. The figure stopped by the fireplace, two feet before his table, and regarded him with a tilt of her head. Her gaze on his sword hand. Aragorn slowly removed his hand from the hilt of his sword and brought it to his side, still tense in case of an attack. She only looked at him curiously in the eye before flicking her left hand towards him, casting the letter onto the table.

She unhurriedly moved away from the table, but sat at seat only a few feet from Aragorn, her back turned to him. He cautiously reached out for the letter before him, keeping an eye on Fuiniell the entire time, and began to read. Once he was done, he closed his eyes and sighed. Now he knew why the wizard refused to acknowledge the Dark Kin by name, it was up to Aragorn to draw his own conclusions of her. He looked at Fiuniell again with different views. He had no reason to trust the creature especially after all she had done, however he did trust Gandalf. Though he would have preferred having trustworthy people nearby, the times did not provide such a luxury. He would have to talk to her away from prying eyes, hope that Gandalf was right about her, and that this wasn't a deadly mistake.

He stood quickly and made for the stairs but stopped to glance at Fiuniell. A sign to follow. Fiuniell stood too at the hint. Her movements both lithe and cautionary as she shadowed him. He entered the first room on the right and slid to the side of the open door, right hand clasping the hilt of his sword. Fiuniell entered close behind him, and made for the bed as Aragorn slammed the door behind, blocking the only exit. The tension was palpable as she calmly sat on the bed and faced him.

"It is obvious you know who I am," the woman smoothly began, removing her hood, "and I know who you are, Isildurchîl". With a rasp of metal Aragorn had unsheathed his blade and pointed it at Funiell, whose eyes grew to narrower slits. The slight recoil and stiffening of her posture was the only indication that she was startled, but she did not reach for her blades. Aragorn took note of this as he slightly lowered his weapon, not immediately dangerous, but still ready.

"How do you know me!" Aragorn growled, "You are a myth, a figure used to keep children from venturing into the night, a nightmare. How, in the entirety of Middle-Earth, did you meet Gandalf? If you lie, I will have those cursed eyes!" Aragorn stated, lifting his voice. His sword arm rose once again, poised for Fiuniell's throat.

Fiuniell closed her eyes and shook her head, after a while she chuckled and lifted head. Eyes still closed she addressed him, "It is nice to know not all mankind is oblivious and unwilling to ask questions. I know you through your bloodline. You look exactly like Isildur in his prime." She opened her eyes once more, now calm with a small smile playing on her lips. "As for Gandalf, he came to me five months prior. He asked me to help in finally riding Middle-Earth of it's returning plague, and free myself in the process."

"I know of your stories and of your powers. You are bound to Sauron's will and, if you live, you will join him again!" Aragorn cried, not moving the sword from Fiuniell's throat.

"Only if he claims the One Ring!" Fiuniell yelled back, gripping the sword hard with her left hand. Red blood began to pool in the hand and drip down her arm to the wooden floor below. "His separation from the ring is the only thing keeping me sane! I have spent too long in his shadow, training, making myself stronger. The destruction of that ring is my last hope." She wrenched her hand from Aragorn's weapon, grimacing as her blood dripped freely from her palm. "Gandalf will tell you the same. If you wish to kill me, do so after we reach Imladris." Fiuniell finished coldly.

Aragorn was impressed with the non-elleth, the blade was recently sharpened and cut easy, it takes will to injure oneself on purpose. He removed the blade from Fiuniell's throat and sheathed it. He moved from the entrance, allowing her passage to leave if she wished. He sat in a chair by the window and regarded the non-elleth with newfound respect. He was still cautious but the tension in the air had lessened considerably.

Fiuniell looked down at her bloodied left hand and her eyes glowed momentarily with power. She growled softly and wiped her hand with the edge of her cloak to reveal puckered skin, not bleeding but not fully healed either. "It's been many years since I have had to do that," Fiuniell called as her eyes glazed slightly with fatigue, "It will not affect my swordsmanship, however I will need to rest for a moment." She looked at Aragorn who's eyes were wide on her hand. "Healing bone is a difficult task. I must compliment you on the sharpness of your blade." Fiuniell smiled as she released a strained chuckle.

"So?" Fiuniell questioned after a moment, tilting her head towards the man, "I do not expect to ever gain your trust fully, but I will work to earn it. Will you allow me to join you to Rivendell and possibly beyond? It will be troublesome to follow you to there without you knowing." She smirked quickly before falling back into deadly seriousness.

Aragorn sat in contemplation a moment as her considered the figure before him. The wizard was either extremely foolish or incredibly intelligent to use the creature against Sauron. She knew his battle strategy well and her powers would be a welcome asset against ambushes. It was promising that she even came to Bree, going immediately to her master with the information would have been a quick end to the plan. He would have to watch her for suspicious behavior and kill her if he suspected betrayal, especially around the ring. Finally, he would have to know the extent of her powers. She would follow the group to Rivendell either way, the extra protection and eyes would be welcome.

"There is no reason for you to not follow the hobbit and I to Rivendell." Aragorn stated quickly. Fiunell's eyes shined and a smile formed on her face. " However," Aragorn snapped, "if I suspect treason I will not hesitate to end you." Fiuniell nodded in agreement, stood and held her uninjured right hand out to Aragorn. He did not expect the action but stood as well and claimed the hand firmy with his right and shook.

"We have an agreement then," Fiuniell sighed, sitting once more on the bed.

"My agreement means nothing," Aragorn stated while taking his seat at the window. "You will have to seek true approval from the group once we reach Rivendell. You may have gained Gandalf's word, however it is up to them and the ring-bearer if you join. I will follow them, no matter if you come." Aragorn concluded. He sat in his chair by the window once more, gazing out into the night. He thought of the grim future as well as the hope that all this effort will be enough.

* * *

Fiuniell smiled as she cradled her left hand to her chest. Her powers worked once more to completely heal the wound. The exhaustion hit her hard but she stayed upright, fighting it. She closed her eyes and sighed, tilting her head to the ceiling. Her acceptance would be a hard prospect to gain from the others, but that will have to wait. Her first task is to get the Ring and it's bearer to Imladris safely. That is her priority. She would worry about the other members, Gandalf, Elrond and her concerns later.

After all, more pressing matters were approaching fast on the horizon.

* * *

Isildurchîl- Heir of Isildur

Imaldris- Rivendell


End file.
